


reflections

by mrsO_jackson



Category: Heroes of Olympus - Fandom, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt Percy Jackson, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Scars, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25193410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsO_jackson/pseuds/mrsO_jackson
Summary: Percy isn't okay.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 99





	reflections

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Mild! self-harm, blood.

He stood flushed and naked in front of the mirror. Droplets of water raced from the nape of his neck to the small of his back, gliding over his sweaty skin with unbridled ease. Usually, Percy was dry within seconds of leaving the shower, but this time, his mind was too preoccupied to concentrate on the singular thought that would allow him to do so. Green eyes darted across the streaks of wiped condensation in the foggy glass, scrutinising the view which beheld them. They looked with disgust and disdain. Nakedness was no expression of sexuality to them, but rather an exposure of flaws and weaknesses. He observed the scars which were scattered generously along his torso and arms as though they were chinks in armour. If you asked, he wouldn't be able to tell you where he received them all - some were gained at 12, some at 17. That didn't matter though; to him, they represented the bleakest of his existence. Ugliness, violence and loss.

He traced each paperwhite line with an outstretched fingertip. They didn't hurt to touch anymore. The most prominent gash on his chest place dead centre, extending from one side to the other. It was gained somewhere on the Argo II trip. He pressed his nail into it so hard that he felt no pain - numbness was a reflex action at this point. A dot of ruby red blood collated in the middle of where he would've bled before and he stared at it with fascination. Blood was something he was exposed to on a daily basis, what with his rather unorthodox lifestyle. It was different, however, when the blood he drew was his. It didn’t make him feel better, just slightly in control. He liked it...

For a second. Then he realised what he’d done. The drop of blood wasn’t much, but the dull stinging made him woozy as though he’d reopened the whole scar. He sat down on the edge of the toilet, desperately grasping at the towels hung on the rack to cover him, to dry him, to take the blood away. They fell clumsily into his fumbling hands and he yelled in frustration. His eyes threatened to well, but tears didn’t spill. Instead of crying, he threw a towel on the cold, tiled floor of the bathroom and curled up in the fetal position. Another covered his midsection and modesty. His calloused hands clutched onto it like a lifejacket, ironically keeping him afloat. Sleep tempted his brain, begging him to let go and forget. Forgetting was a tempting offer, which he accepted gladly and gratuitously. 

—

Annabeth found him first. She called out for him, worry etched upon her brow, as she traversed each room in their relatively small apartment. Dark theories flooded her head as she opened the bathroom door, but instead, she found her boyfriend lying curled up among colourful beach towels. His sleeping expression was troubled, but not hurt. He was naked, but covered. His 6"1 body took up such a small proportion of space she wondered if it was possible he had shrunk. Even with her intelligence, she couldn’t discern what had happened. 

“Annabeth,” he murmured almost inaudibly.

“Perce-”

His body convulsed as a sob racked his chest. He seemed so broken that Annabeth felt her heart tug painfully. She didn’t know what to ask or do or say to alleviate his pain, but smart talk wasn’t what he needed right now. So, she shook off her shoes and coat and sat herself down on the floor next to him. She pulled his head onto her lap. There was no need to pretend to know what he was going through; she understood that right now, all she could do hold him and wait. Time was a luxury in their lives, but she could afford it now. For Percy’s sake, she needed to. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos appreciated.


End file.
